


Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

by MercurialInK



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fluff, Gang AU, IDK man I just wanted to write smoker/ace fluff I am thirsty, M/M, This is kind of a bootleg AU?, basically Ace gets a concussion and starts flirting its cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialInK/pseuds/MercurialInK
Summary: Happy Birthday Mei, who dragged me into rare pair hell. <3 This is all your fault and I hope you're proud of yourself I am SO THIRSTY for this





	

 

...

 

Ace was running. That in itself wasn’t particularly unusual – as an enforcer for one of the chief gangs in the city of Loguetown, Ace spent quite a bit of time running.

 

In this case, he was the distraction. He’d left Thatch and Marco to take care of a _problem_ on the other side of the city and decided to make a general public nuisance of himself. G-5, the city’s gang task force, only had so many members, and running circles around them was one of Ace’s favorite passtimes.

 

So intent was he on keeping himself slightly ahead of the bumbling idiots in police uniforms that Ace managed, just for a second, not to look where he was going.

 

The commander of the second division of the Whitebeard gang went barreling right into someone’s chest, and ricocheted off the guy right into a wall.

 

“Now what’s this?”

 

Ace was startled to realize that he was staring directly up at an incredibly buff, incredibly hot guy.

           

“Uh, hi, I’m sorry?” he asked, more than said. The guy towering over him was build like the same brick wall Ace had just come in contact with. One arm was occupied with a giant paper bag full of what were probably groceries, and the other was extended to help Ace up. The t-shirt the guy was wearing did _everything_ to show off the very toned muscles of his arms and chest.

           

 _Oh man,_ Ace thought, looking the guy up and down.

           

“Nevermind,” he grinned. “You can run into me any time.”

           

The man chuckled.

           

“It’s Smoker, and I think you ran into me,” the beefy dreamcake said. Or was it supposed to be dreamy beefcake? Ace didn't know right now but  _damn_ the guy was hot.

           

“Ace,” Ace said.

           

“Well Ace, what were you running from?”

           

“Ah, nothing,” Ace said evasively, glancing behind him. It seemed he’d lost G-5 for now, not that they ever managed to keep his scent for very long. Unfortunately, what the gang task force lacked in capability, they made up for in sheer _persistence._

           

Suddenly Smoker put his bag down and knelt by Ace, peering intently at his forehead.

           

“You’re bleeding,” he said in that deep, gravelly voice. “How hard did you hit your head just now?”

           

“Not hard,” Ace said, bringing a hand up to the cut on his head and wincing as it stung. His hand came away wet with blood.

           

“Well come on, my apartment is just around the corner and I can patch you up.”

           

“Ohhhh, Doctor Smoker is it?”

           

“No, just Smoker,” the man grunted, hauling Ace up and then grabbing the bag of groceries. “But I do have training to dress your head wound. Come on, Ace.”

           

Ace let the other man manhandle him – in part because he was feeling a little unsteady but honestly in part because he was _entranced._ The guy clearly treated his body like a temple, and Ace was ready to sign up to be the next worshipper.

           

Smoker burst out laughing.

           

“I’m going to assume you didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he said. Ace could feel his entire face going bright red.

 

"I did not," Ace confirmed. He could see a halo of light around his rescuer and realized he probably had a concussion.

 

"You want me to call an ambulance for you?" Smoker asked. "I can clean that but you might want to have a real doctor take a look."

 

"I'd rather have doctor Smoker take a look," Ace said, which made more sense in his concussed head than it did coming out of his mouth. 

 

Smoker chuckled again.

 

"What kind of doctor smokes anyway?" Ace asked as they climbed a set of stairs up to Smoker's apartment. "That's bad for your health, isn't it?"

 

"If you have a problem with the smoking you can stay in the dirty alley next to the garbage can," Smoker suggested in a voice that made it abundantly clear that he was not, in fact, going to leave Ace sitting by a dumpster with a concussion.

 

Ace mimed zipping his lips closed.

 

They had reached the door to Smoker's apartment and he set down the bag of groceries to unlock the door. He set Ace down in a char by the living room table and started putting away some of the more perishable items. Ace watched him work, eyes fixed on the muscled forearms that were displayed in all their glory.

 

"So what had you running down random alleys, really?" Smoker asked when he'd put away his groceries and started filling a bowl with water and pulling out supplies to clean and dress the cut in Ace's head.

 

"Ah, I pissed off some people," Ace said. "It's nothing, really. They've probably even forgotten by now."

 

Smoker grunted, clearly not believing this, but willing to let it go.

 

Ace followed the graceful movements of Smoker's powerful hands as the other man set the bowl of water down on the table next to Ace.

 

"Close your eyes," Smoker said authoritatively, and Ace obliged. 

 

He felt the gentle sweep of the warm washcloth on his forehead. He winced as it went over the painful raw edges of the cut, but he tried to stay as still as possible. Smoker continued to dab gently but firmly around the cut, cleaning out all the blood and whatever grit from the alley had landed in the wound.

 

"You shouldn't need stitches for this," Smoker said in that deep voice, and Ace sighed in relief. Whiteboard would probably chew him out for getting hurt so carelessly anyway, but at least he wasn't going to need to have someone sew his head back together. Even the thought skeeved him out.

 

Finally, Smoker seemed to have finished, and pulled out a giant swab.

 

"This will probably hurt, but please stay still," Smoker said seriously. Ace could smell the chemical disinfectant on the swab and braced himself for the burning pain. This time, he didn't flinch when it came, and Smoker made quick, efficient work of cleaning his wound.

 

"You're sure you're not a doctor?" Ace asked. "You're awfully good at cleaning head wounds. Maybe you missed your calling."

 

"I'm not," Smoker denied again. "And what is it you do, Mr. Ace?"

  
  


Ace chuckled.

 

"I run into walls, obviously," he said. 

        

 "Obviously," Smoker allowed very seriously. "You should be careful about doing that."

 

"But if I don't, how will I get you to tend to my wounds?" Ace asked with a fake pout. 

 

"I am more than happy to tend to you, wounds or not," Smoker said, wrapping a bandage around Ace's head. "I would be happier to do it without the wounds."

 

Ace grinned up at Smoker. Feeling impetuous and reckless, he surged up and kissed the heavily muscled other man.

 

Smoker did not move for a moment. Ace could feel him reciprocate the kiss, but then a large, gentle hand was pushing him back down.

 

"You probably have a concussion," Smoker said. "I don't want to take adverting of you."

 

"What if I want you to take advantage of me?" Ace asked with a roguish smile.

 

"Alright, off with the vest and shirt, I want to make sure you're not hurt elsewhere," Smoker said, instead of answering. 

 

"Steamy," Ace said, and Smoker rolled his eyes. Ace complied anyway, watching a blush rise in the large man's cheeks. He was positively adorable, in addition to being delicious, and Ace was absolutely interested.

 

  
"Let me clean that scrape," Smoker said, breaking the tension between them, and gesturing to Ace's elbow. Ace hadn't even realized he was hurt there, too, but now he could see that there was a patch of skin there that was completely torn by skidding on asphalt. 

 

 

"If you're too concussed to realize you're injured, you're too concussed for any of  _that,"_ Smoker said pragmatically.

 

"What a gentleman," Ace swooned.

 

"I wonder what kind of scoundrels you are associating with that a basic form of decency would cause you to think me a gentleman," Smoker commented.

 

"You have no idea."

 

"I see. Is that related to the people you were running from earlier?"

 

Ace shrugged, grinning.

 

"Maybe. Guess you'll have to keep me around to find out."

 

Smoker finished cleaning Ace's scrape, and bandaged that too. He really did have talented hands. Smoker laughed again, which made Ace realize he'd been running his mouth again. Well shit.

 

Smoker tied off the bandage around Ace's arm and stood up.

 

"Would you like me to walk you home?" Smoker asked. Ace stretched, feeling the pull of the bandages securely tied around his head and arm.

 

"I'm fine," he said. "Ship shape and everything. I think I can find my way back to my place okay, unless that was an offer to stay."

 

Ace was completely unprepared when Smoker bent down and kissed him.

 

"Some other time," he said gently. "I apologize. don't hit on people with concussions. It's unseemly."

 

"Well that just seems unfair," Ace whined.

 

"It's better this way," Smoker said. "Here, I'll give you my number."

 

Ace took the card with the number scrawled onto the back, and tucked it securely into his pocket. He certainly wouldn't be letting go of that any time soon.

 

"I guess I should get out of your hair," he decided, beginning to button up his shirt. Smoker nodded, but made no move to force him to leave. Ace grabbed his vest and turned towards the other side of the room, pacing closer to the door as he dressed.

 

It was only when he reached the side table when his eyes went wide. For a moment, Ace's stomach dropped.

 

There was no way Smoker knew who he was. If he had, he would have arrested him instead of taking him back to his home and dressing the cut on Ace's head. There was absolutely no way, but the shining badge and the gun beside it on Smoker's side table told Ace that he was in a room with a Loguetown officer of the law. 

           

“You’re a cop?” Ace asked, looking at the badge tensely.

           

“I’m starting my patrol as the Captain of G-5 tomorrow,” Smoker said. “On transfer from Goa.”

           

_Aw shit I have a crush on the guy who’s gonna be in charge of hunting my ass!_

           

Outwardly, Ace maintained his calm, feeling more confident in hearing the explanation. Obviously, Smoker hadn’t seen the tattoos on his back that marked him as a member of Whitebeard’s crew, because there was no way a cop even from Goa wouldn’t have recognized them. Replaying the events of the evening in his head, Ace realized he’d only ever been facing Smoker while his shirt was off. 

           

“Well officer,” he said. “I hope we get the chance to see each other again.”

           

Smoker took a long drag from his cigar, his eyes fixed intently on the tanned, exposed skin of Ace’s body as Ace buttoned his shirt.

           

“As do I,” Smoker said.

 

...

 


End file.
